My Lot in Life
by mangled-form
Summary: Omegaverse - you've been warned, but not explicit as of yet. Young John discovers he's an Omega while at uni.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

**So, I had this great idea, inspired by another story, which my muse then proceeded to twist into the mutant child of Omegaverse. I kid you not. **

**All reviews and critics welcome.**

John had already completed exams - thank God - when he got sick. Rather, it had started during his last exam when he'd started shivering, so much so that he'd had to concentrate to hold the pen steady. He'd pressed on and finished, but quickly waved off his friends who were heading to the pub, saying he thought he was coming down with something. From there, he'd hurried as fast as he could, nearly tripping over himself until he reached the dorm building. John barely managed to stumble through his front door, shutting the door behind him before slumping to the tile floor with a sigh of relief.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this sick, barely able to get up off the floor, as he reluctantly made it to his bed and collapsed on top of the messy sheets. His roommate Mike was out for the weekend to see family, so there wasn't anyone to make him tea or soup. Not that Mike would have helped much anyway, spending the time when he wasn't in class shagging half the student body. John couldn't quite understand the amount of time Mike put into pursuing various interests, maybe that was given John had yet to present.

He just had no interest in any such shagging. Mike teased him about it from time to time, saying "You're only saying this now, but once you present, everyone will be fair game." John highly doubted that. At least he hoped he'd have better taste than Mike, whose range had yet to reject anyone, as far as John could tell.

John already knew how he'd present anyway. His parents were Betas, his sister was a Beta. All of his friends were Betas, considering any Alphas were usually sent to fancy schools by their well-to-do families.

John snuffled into his sheets from where he lay on his stomach. The shivering had overtaken his whole body, he could feel himself literally vibrating on the sheets. Sheets that needed a good wash. He wrinkled his nose. They hadn't smelled dirty that morning, but now they smelled musty, even a faint hint of the coffee he'd spilled on it weeks ago. Hadn't he washed them after that? He tightened his hands where they were clenching the sheets, wrinkling them further as he tried to slow down his shivering. Maybe some chamomile tea would help. He thought there might be an old box at the back of the pantry. He slowly inched his way to the edge of the bed until his feet were off the edge, then swung his feet around and sat up. Immediately, the room became a blur, his mind a lightheaded haze before he blacked out.

When he woke up, he didn't know how much time had passed, but the room seemed darker, and he was curled up on his side. Still shivering, but he felt hot, burning all over, his sheets damp beneath him. Was it a fever? John felt scared now, honestly scared. He'd never blacked out before, that couldn't be a good thing to do, right? He stretched his hand out from where he lay, fumbling around with his hand barely reaching his desk until it clasped around his mobile. He flipped it open and pressed his speed dial.

God, he didn't want to call Harry, but there was no one else he could call, no friends at Uni he knew well enough that could take him to the hospital. Because he felt he might end up there, the way his mind was going foggy.

"Harry?" He croaked into the phone as he heard the click of someone picking up on the other line.

"John? Is that you?" John breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't the weekend, Harry wouldn't be drinking yet.

"Harry, I need your help."

"Is something the matter?" Her voice sharpened on the other end. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"I - I thought I was coming down with something this morning, but, it's really bad Harry."

"You're sick? Can't you just pop a few paracetamol?" John blearily thought for a moment. He remembered there being a bottle in the bathroom. Dammit. Too far.

"Harry, I'd get some if I could even stand up. I can't fucking stand up!" He tried to put some anger into his voice, but it came out more as a plea.

"Oh." There was a pause. John heard her take a breath. "Oh! John, I'll come over right now, let me just tell my boss that it's an emergency." The phone clicked and John looked at it for a moment, before comprehending that she'd hung up. He pushed the phone back across the bed and then buried his face under one of his pillows. His heart rate was ratcheting up, he could hear it pounding in his chest. The worst of it was he felt sticky all over from his sweat, or at least he thought it was until he tried to roll over onto his back. What came out of his mouth was something between a gasp and a moan.

"Shit" he said with a hiss as he felt a spike of both pain and pleasure frisson from his arse, all the way up his spine. He reached back and palmed his arse through his pants. He lifted his hand back up and stared at it. His fingers were glossy, covered in a liquid that slowly dripped from his fingers to the bed. Nononononono.

It couldn't be.

Sure, he hadn't presented yet, often showered with the Beta Wash to keep people from staring. His doctor that he saw once a year, said it was fine, a little abnormal, but fine. He just happened to be on the other end of the spectrum, one of the late presenters, since he was already 19. But it had been assumed that he'd present as a Beta. I mean, both of my parents had been Betas, right? I'm just a Beta, I couldn't be a... He couldn't say it. But the viscous liquid on his fingertips, the way it slowly dripped down his fingers and onto his sheets wasn't lying. He could faintly remember the brief sex-ed he'd received as a child. Betas could only produce Betas. That's what he'd been taught at school. That's why there were so many Betas. Alphas could mate with Betas, or the rare Omega. But only Alphas and Omegas together produced more Alphas and Omegas. Omegas, that were used as breeders, usually women, but with the odd man making up a smaller percentage.

He scrunched his face and thought harder. If Alphas and Betas mated, there was only a 10% chance that an Alpha would be produced, even less of a chance that an Omega would be born. His breath caught. It couldn't be that -

The door banged in the distance, at least it seemed far away, as if across a great space.

"...on...John!" He didn't even try to look up. He heard a gasp and then a hand - cool - placed lightly on his shoulder. He shuddered at the touch.

"John, what happened?" He turned his head slowly to see Harry crouched beside him, dressed in her office wear, dark hair pulled back in a loose bun.

He let out a laugh, which probably sounded more like a sob as she carefully touched his forehead.

"You're burning up!" She leaned in closer, and John saw the moment when realization came across her face. She sniffed delicately at his neck.

"You...you smell different." She wasn't going to say it.

"Course." He mumbled. "I presented."

"You smell sweeter...exotic...like jasmine, mixed with something earthier."

"An Omega. A goddamn Omega. I'm not supposed to be an Omega Harry..."

She cooed gently as she brushed his hair out of his face. It was comforting and he momentarily forgot how hot he felt. John couldn't remember the last time she'd done that, maybe when he was six, when their parents had still been alive...

"John..." she bit her lip.

"I'm going to give you these sleeping pills for now, to ease it for you. I've heard the first heat can be painful."

John's hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist, almost painfully so.

"Don't let them take me! I - I don't want to become some sex slave."

He'd heard stories, of how Omegas were taken from their homes by the government. How they lost their identities, were bonded to strange Alphas, never to have a life of their own.

"I know John." She looked him over carefully. "I won't let that happen."

She hesitated. "I...I might know someone who can help. Just, take these for now, let me worry for you." She held up two white pills, which he reluctantly took and dry swallowed. He felt a queasiness low in his stomach before slowly dropping into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

"...es, it could..."

"...the conse..."

He could hear low voices, almost like reeds along a bank, a susurrus of sounds flowing over his head, accompanied by a low burning in the pit of his stomach and an itch he couldn't reach or identify. He flinched as a sharp pain seized him, and the voices stopped.

Someone's hand began rubbing slow circles, low on his back, and he let out a soft sigh. It was as if a heavy blanket had been placed over him, dulling all sensations to a pleasant hum in the back of his head.

"Shh...it's okay." The voice was low and melodic, like rich caramel melting in the sun.

"Mmh?" He tried to turn and see who it was, but then someone lightly carded a hand through his hair and he relaxed deeper.

"John, I've brought a - a friend who knows what to do. Her name is Clara, she's an Omega too." Harry's voice came from further back, not the hands that were touching here and there, easing muscles that had been tightened to the point of pain.

"It's lucky you came now Clara. I thought the sleeping pills would last longer, it's only been an hour."

"You're lucky they lasted as long as they did. During heat, the body processes things much differently, if he'd been further along his heat, it probably wouldn't have affected John at all." She continued to pet the top of his head as she spoke. She smelt like cinnamon and cloves, warm and familiar with her touch.

"While I'm here, I can dull his sensations, keep them bearable. But I can't stay long, James will know I've left if I stay much longer." Her voice held a slight tremble, a fragileness as she breathed out the man's name. John heard a rustle, could feel Harry come closer.

"You shouldn't have to put up with that man" she said fiercely. John hmmphed through the fog of his brain. He'd never heard Harry speak like that before. It sounded...possessive.

Clara only laughed, sounding light-hearted to the untrained ear. "The only reason I could come here today is that I'm trapped, trapped more surely than you could ever know." Her finger brushed John's ear and he let out a little moan. "He doesn't watch me, because he doesn't have to." She made a small, unhappy sound.

"But on the subject of John, he can only be an Omega, definitely not a Beta." She leaned in and sniffed his hair with a satisfied sigh.

"But can you do anything?" Harry asked worryingly.

"I don't want my baby brother to end up a slave to a rich Alpha." Her voice was bitter; John made a small note of concern and Harry sighed.

"I can put him on the same birth control I use, but his scent..." Clara slowly traced a finger up and down his back. John shivered with delight.

"It's harder for a Beta to smell it, especially when he's not in heat, but it's there. Any Alpha within a block radius will be able to smell it. And Harry, you can see plainly that I look much different than a Beta."

"I know...you're beautiful..." Harry's voice was wistful.

Clara laughed again, and John could picture the amused look on her face. "Thank you, Harry, but that's not what I meant." She shifted on the bed where she sat. John felt hands under his arms, felt himself being lifted up.

"John, we have to wash you up. I can't have you smelling like an Omega when we take you out."

"Hmm?" John tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes, but he just hung limply in Clara's arms.

"Okay, Harry, hold onto him for me. He'll stay half-asleep like this if I continue to hold him. It's a pheromone reaction, it'll be too hard if he can't walk on his own to the bath."

John felt other hands, different hands hold onto him as Clara stepped away. The world shifted and John's eyes fluttered open. Harry had his arm on her shoulder, and he struggled up as his feet touched the floor. That phantom pain came back, edged by sharp pleasure, and he moaned with each step they took as Harry guided him towards the bath. He felt alert though, more awake than before, his eyes quickly darting from side to side, searching. There was a sharp need low in his gut, a longing for something he couldn't find.

They reached the bath, and he saw a slim woman, tawny with loose ringlets hovering over the bath, shutting off the water as she heard them come in. She turned to face them, and John gasped.

Her eyes were golden, intense like an eagle's and her throat was lightly dusted with feathers, peeking from the collar of her shirt and ending under her chin. John wondered if the feathers covered her whole body, or only the section he could see. Her clothes covered her whole body, from the wrists up, while a long skirt concealed her legs. She looked at him, and a smirk curled at the edge of her mouth.

"Don't look so shocked, you'll look much the same soon enough. Harry, bring him over here, there's some Beta wash I found under the sink."

Harry struggled to keep John standing - she was rather petite at 5'2'' - but Clara simply stared from where she perched at the edge of the bath.

"Well, John was unpresented for a while. The doctor recommended it until he actually presented, so that he wouldn't get ostracized."

Clara laughed. "So that they wouldn't smell the scent of fresh milk on him, a child's smell."

John grumbled. "I'm awake now, no need to speak over me. I'm not a child. Hey!" He startled as Clara reached over and began pulling off his shirt, careful not to touch his bare skin.

"Stop that!" He reached out to grab her hands, but she swatted him away. Just the slightest touch of her fingertips caused John's eyes to glaze momentarily.

"Don't touch me unless you wish to fall asleep in the tub. Don't be ashamed, you're still a child to me." She didn't look any older than 25, John thought with chagrin. Before he realized it, he was naked as the day. Clara's eyes darted to Harry's and then back to John's.

"Alright, I don't think that Harry's strong enough to do this, now don't fall asleep on me." With that, she lifted John as easily as if he was only twenty pounds, while Harry gave a sigh of relief. And the next moment, he was in the tub with Harry scrubbing his hair, dumping more and more Beta wash over him, enough that his eyes began to sting at the chemicals.

"Harry! Oww!" at a particularly rough tug of his hair and then he flinched again as another spike of pain, like a nail, went through him. Clara watched, supervising it all, and when the Beta wash was empty, leaned in and sniffed deeply at his neck before wrinkling her nose.

"Ugh. Yes, he smells awful now. Like bleach." Harry looked up with a hurt expression and Clara patted her arm.

"Not like you dear. Betas do smell nice. You smell refreshing, like oranges. But this Beta wash..." She frowned at it and threw it into the trash. "It smells like chemicals."

Between the two of them, they dried and dressed while John shivered between them. He could barely get a word in until they had bundled him into a car and he was allowed to smell Clara, as long as he didn't touch. Her scent was enough to ease the pain, without putting him to sleep like before. Clara drove with Harry in the front while John rested his chin on her seat.

"Where are we going?"

Harry glanced back before looking at Clara. "We're going to Clara's, her Alpha is away on a trip, no one will be there."

"But school..."

"Since you just finished exams, you're on break for one week. We'll figure out what to do before you go back."

John nodded and hummed in acknowledgement before looking back at Clara.

"Why do you have feathers? Do all Omegas look like that? Will I look like that?"

Clara grimaced without taking her eyes off the road. "It's a trait that all Omegas have in varying amounts. I suspect it comes down the genetic line...there's a reason why Omegas are considered almost like Sirens. We draw those around us; we have some of the bird-traits that the Sirens of mythology had, that Ovid spoke of."

John frowned at that. Another dull tremor went through him as the car turned, but he was able to ignore it - mostly. He bit his lip until it hurt, letting the pain steady him, before he continued.

"I'm...I'm adopted, aren't I?" Harry froze in her seat.

"No." She struggled to take a deep breath, shifted her eyes low.

"I never meant to tell you, didn't think I'd need to. Mum, she was having an affair." Harry looked out her window, didn't look at John. "I saw them one night, that's how I knew. Saw them through my window as he led her up to the house, as he -" Her voice broke. Clara reached over and squeezed Harry's shoulder reassuringly. "I couldn't tell who it was, it was too dark. Dad was away at the pubs, like usual. Probably had no idea. Probably slumped in some dirty alley, like he was when -" her voice was pure venom, dark as she stopped herself from going on. Her hand reached up to grasp Clara's hand on her shoulder.

John looked at the back of Harry's head, tried to process it, couldn't. His mind spun in a million directions and he licked his lips, tasting the metallic tang from the cut on his bottom lip.

Clara spoke up, and John clung to the sound, focused in on it. "John, your heat will last for anywhere from five to seven days. Luckily, it's only once a year, but it will be painful, very painful without a mate. My presence keeps it to a minimum, but I can't stay with you once I drop you off. You'll have to stay there on your own, we can only check up on you from time to time, otherwise it'll be too obvious that something's going on. We'll need to figure out how to have you pass off as a Beta."

"How?"

"The birth control will keep you from any unnecessary...accidents, and you'll only need to take it for the week before, during and after your heat. Your scent...it might be possible to cover up outside of the heat. Any manifestations you have...may be near to impossible to cover up."

"Manifestations?"

"Feathers, John. Sometimes even wings. Though I sincerely hope there won't be any." John saw a small spasm go through her back. "Wings are more...difficult to get rid of."

The car came to a stop. John blinked and looked out the window. He hadn't been paying attention before. It was a large house, almost a mansion, made out of brick. John scanned the horizon before he opened the door. The closest neighboring house was a brief speck in the distance.

John was quickly shuttled inside and Clara locked the door, her mouth set in a grim line. "James doesn't like this house, it's too...quiet for his tastes. He won't come here, says I can use it however I like." She turned to a nearby door, opened it to reveal a closet with coats. She grabbed one and then steered John to a couch in the next room, Harry trailing behind her.

"Sit." John promptly sat, and then jerked up with a shout as his rear met the cushions. Hands grabbed him and turned him so that he was laying on his side, before covering him in a heavy wool coat.

"Sorry" Hands patted him and then let go and John's mind cleared. Clara stood with her hand at the door, her other clasped firmly by Harry, who was already halfway out.

"When it gets worse, smell the coat, it has my scent on it." With that, they were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Thank you to all who've read and reviewed! I'm still a new writer so any critiques are welcome. 'Sigh' This chapter took awhile and I still might go back and fiddle with it. I haven't quite figured out where this story will lead... not brit-picked or betaed**

The next week was the most excruciating time in John's life. It was as if he was hungry, to the point of pain, but couldn't find whatever he was hungry for. Clara told him that the first time was the worst, but it didn't make him feel any better. Not only was he hungry, but his bones felt as if they were being wrenched and twisted in their sockets. There was this burning need, desire deep within him that had him squirming and flinching at the slightest sound. His body alternated between hot and cold, shivering regardless. At the end of week, he'd looked in the mirror and had physically jumped, thinking it was someone else staring back at him. He looked so haggard in the mirror, dark circles like he'd been punched in the face while his hair was damp against his head. John didn't think he'd slept even once, if that was humanly possible. He'd taken a quick shower after his heat had ended, standing stiffly with a towel around his waist while Clara looked him over. Her eyes were dark and serious while fingers brushed damp skin as she searched for any manifestations. His eyes were still blue - thank God - although he had the faint beginnings of feathers on his chest.

"It comes on slowly, progresses as you age. You might be one of the few who doesn't have to deal with many traits." Her voice was hopeful as she looked at him.

"Well, I guess I should head back to uni now." He didn't know how he would explain his tired appearance, but the feathers would be fine with a shirt covering it.

Clara was silent as she drove him back. Harry was at work, hadn't managed to come by at all that week since she was a junior partner at the advertising company. Not that he could remember much after the first day, his mind too busy trying to quell the pain and desire that had ricocheted back and forth with each hour.

The car stopped outside his dorms and he reached for the door handle.

"John."

He stopped and looked over at Clara.

"Here." She held out two bottles of pills, one bright blue and the other a pale pink. The labels were handwritten in a graceful cursive.

"The blue are birth control. The pink are hormone suppressants and should help mute your scent." She licked her lips. "My husband has holdings with a pharmaceutical company, he's working in collaboration to create pills that make Alphas smell like Betas, for the government. Don't ask why." She warned as she saw the question in John's eyes. "You only need to take one a week. It'll cover up your scent except for the week of your heat. It - it might have unexpected side effects since it's meant for Alphas. It might not work at all, but it's worth a try combined with your Beta wash."

John took the bottles. He hesitated.

"Clara, are...are you going to be alright? I mean, I could help -"

"Shh." She pressed her hand briefly over his mouth before pulling back again.

"Worry about yourself. Be selfish."

"Um. Thanks. For these." He held the bottles close, opened the door, got out, and closed it behind him.

He took a few steps, then looked back to watch the dark car drive away. He watched until the car turned two blocks up and disappeared. John knew he should be feeling something, about this change in his life, but in truth, he felt nothing. He was too exhausted to feel anything, only a dullness that was a relief after all the sensations he'd felt for the last week.

The first week back was the hardest. He felt like he could sleep forever, but he still had to go to class. His method was sitting at the back with his eyes closed and a recorder to copy the lecture so he could listen to it later. He told his friends that his grandfather had died, and received sympathetic hugs, no questions needed to explain his wrecked appearance. None of his friends or the people who went to his school were Alphas, so he managed. Alphas and Betas were highly segregated within schools, most if not all Alphas going to Oxbridge, a sort of boys club really. For that, John was grateful.

After that, it was as if nothing had happened, the pills must have worked fine, because his roommate didn't comment except to mention he might be using too much Beta wash. He shrugged it off, saying he always got sweaty after rugby practice, and would Mike prefer that he smelled like that instead?

There were several strange things that came of being an Omega. Scents were stronger, during Chemistry class, he'd almost gagged during one of the experiments. He could instantly recognize friends by their scent, even when he was hunched over in the library studying, facing the other way even. He'd perked up as the door opened and the scents from his study group wafted over to where he was. John knew that Betas could smell things to a certain extent. When he'd still been unpresented, Mike had commented about girls he fancied, how one smelled of clovers, one particularly busty girl smelling strangely of buttered toast.

As an unpresented, John had barely been able to smell at all. As an Omega, it was overwhelming. Betas smelled good, and the faint whiffs of Alpha he sometimes caught on the street smelled musky and powerful. The first time he really noticed an Alpha was when he was waiting in line at a coffee shop his first week back. He'd been zoning out, half asleep really, when the scent had hit him. Muscles had tensed, he'd literally frozen for a moment before whipping his head around and staring at the man in the polished suit who'd come through the door. A banker probably. He hadn't looked any different from the other people waiting in line, but then he'd smiled, as if he was staring directly at John. He'd quickly turned away from the man, fear and something else hammering in his chest at what he'd seen. The ends of the man's canines had been sharper, and whereas he'd looked complacent walking in, his eyes had narrowed, looking almost feral for a moment as he sniffed the air. John hoped, prayed that Alphas couldn't smell fear as he ordered a red eye - his usual for that first week - and rushed out the door, clutching his coffee in both hands. The most terrifying part was that he'd wanted for a brief moment to give himself away, to lock eyes with the man in understanding.

The curled edges of desire. Like a piece of paper lit at the corner by a match. The taste of sulphur lingering in his mouth as the edges slowly curled inward. That was the taste of desire for the first time. It was unpleasant. John didn't like it at all, because it was a lack of control. And a sharper pain at knowing he couldn't act on it. Every time he saw an Alpha, he could taste it at the back of his throat.

Luckily, the only times he saw Alphas were on the streets, such as when he had to walk between classes and his dorm. John found himself spending more and more time at school, in the labs or the library. It was safe, felt safe to be inside at a desk rather than walking down the street and hoping the odd gust didn't send the Alpha on the other side of the street into a frenzy. He didn't really trust the hormone suppressants completely. Around Betas, he was fine, but he didn't have enough knowledge of Alphas to know if he was completely safe. He didn't think so. Mike began joking that John was now a citizen of the library, and that he'd start growing moss if he sat still long enough. John scoffed at that. He still had rugby afterall, which he refused to give up.

The second strange thing that had come from becoming an Omega was a surge in strength. His books that he usually lugged from class to class felt as light as feathers. The first time he'd played rugby after his change, he'd had to apologize over and over again to the stunned player that he'd tackled. The player had just laid there for several moments, chest heaving as he struggled for breath. Despite John's size, he rarely got hurt and healed quickly, rather, those he played with started to grumble after a while from the rough treatment. Because John had discovered that he enjoyed being more aggressive when playing. That's what he called it every time he tackled someone to the ground and felt a grin break out across his face. Then again, rugby's a violent sport, right? The adrenalin was just the jolt he needed to his system.

"John! Hold off a second!" His teammate Nathan jogged up to him on the field.

"What?" John wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and looked back at Nathan. He came and patted John on the shoulder before leaning in.

"You need to cut back on all this aggression you've got going on."

"What are you saying?" John looked up warily.

"Nothing. Just that you need to tone it down."

John nodded and got back to the game. But he knew the warning for what it was.

The worst time after his first heat was when he had to go for the mandatory health check up, required until he presented. He'd swallowed several paracetamol before carefully plucking out each feather, the pain still feeling 10x what pulling out his hair would feel like. Then, he'd slathered his chest with vaseline and slept uneasily that night. When he'd gone to the doctor, he'd barely needed to take off his shirt before the doctor had sniffed the air and said, "Right, you're a Beta" checked his name off the list and swept him out the door.

He didn't see Clara anymore, Harry came by from time to time and simply shook her head whenever she was mentioned. She had dark circles under her eyes and John wasn't sure if it was because of the drinking binges he knew she had every weekend. John had only asked once more.

"Harry, you love Clara, don't you?"

Harry's eyes had flashed. "Yes."

John didn't ask about Clara after that.

Harry brought by a brown paper bag before his second heat, with new bottles of pills, and a small clear vial that Harry explained with a hushed tone was Clara's tears, for scent.

John decided that for his next heat, he would go camping. He'd scouted it out months before and found a remote location past an old dented sign that said "Private property." There were no houses around for miles; he could only assume it was vacant land that some Lord or other had forgotten about years ago.

He set up the tent and settled in the night before his heat began, against a rocky outcropping. John was more prepared than the last time, with several water bottles, Clara's coat that had become like a security blanket for him, and enough bedding that he could curl up in. He wouldn't need to eat during his heat, but he could remember being thirsty, holding his head under a faucet and drinking long gulps. He was near a stream where he could fill up his water bottles when he ran out, along with iodine tablets. He bundled up that night and fell asleep early with the sunset, knowing it would be the last time he slept for awhile.

John awoke to shuddering, his body literally vibrating within his cocoon of blankets. He slowly eased his way up, wincing as pressure was put on his now tender rear. He sat there for a moment, assessing his body. He could feel the tremors going up and down his body in small jolts, as well as the leaden weight in his gut that he knew would only get worse and worse as his heat progressed. He looked around until he found Clara's coat, and then shrugged it on, instantly feeling the tension easing in his shoulders. In comparison to the last time, which he could remember in stark clarity with bouts of blurred unconsciousness, this time was bearable.

His chest itched and he lazily scratched it, feeling the feathers brush against his fingertips. They hadn't grown back after he plucked them, but John guessed that the oncoming heat had grown them back. They were still low on his chest, thankfully, and he was almost happy that they were back. They felt familiar, as if they were meant to be there. Clara's vial hung around his neck, but he ignored it for now.

He opened that flap of his tent and peered out into the sunlight. Maybe he could look around and explore for a bit? He hadn't had much chance of looking around the other day, all of his focus on simply getting there. His feet felt pleasant walking over the ground, even the stones, as he made his way down to the stream to soak his feet.

The rest of the day was spent hiking around the surrounding area with increasing confidence. He felt safe with Clara's coat on, and the spasms that wracked his body only came in waves once an hour. As soon as he felt the first jolt of pain, he unscrewed the small vial, took a deep inhale, and the pain went away. John grinned, laughed each time, felt almost normal. It was because he was too complacent that he didn't notice the sound of other footsteps until it was almost too late.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's note:**__ Hey! Sorry it's been awhile since the last update, I'm going to try to be more frequent from now on. And a big thank you to everyone who's read the story and anyone who's reviewed it, I love reading them :) Anyways, here's the latest chapter, I hope you enjoy it!_

_Last chapter:_

_The rest of the day was spent hiking around the surrounding area with increasing confidence. He felt safe with Clara's coat on, and the spasms that wracked his body only came in waves once an hour. As soon as he felt the first jolt of pain, he unscrewed the small vial, took a deep inhale, and the pain went away. John grinned, laughed each time, felt almost normal. It was because he was too complacent that he didn't notice the sound of other footsteps until it was almost too late._

John froze as he smelled the scent upwind, at the same time the pain hitting him harder this time, enough that one moment he was standing, the next on his knees, hands bracing himself as he gasped for breath in great choking sobs.

"Are you alright?" There was a rustle in front of him and John looked up sharply, taking in the young man, no more than 16, who stood several yards away staring at him. His hair was in dark, unkempt curls down to his shoulders, and he looked almost delicate with his pale, sharp cheekbones. John sniffed the air cautiously. Unpresented, thank God.

"No, ah, I'm fine." He struggled to his feet, opening the vial and taking a quick whiff before screwing it shut again.

"You don't look fine. Awful in fact." The young man's eyes were sharp, and he stepped closer.

"You're young, 20, medical student. Haven't been here long, judging by your clothes, though why you'd wear that absurd coat while hiking, I've yet to discover." He sniffed once, conveying entirely what he thought of such a coat. He took another step forward and John felt the urge to step back, but fought it. There was no way an unpresented could tell what he was, unpresented had no sense of smell.

"How do you know that? And the coat's fine, thank you very much." John tried at sarcasm, but could feel it failing as his anxiety increased.

"It's easy, most people are much too obvious. And the coat, it's much too nice to be wearing out hiking." The young man's eyes widened. "A woman's coat actually. Is it for sentimental value? Why are you in these woods, on private property? No wait." He held up a hand "Don't tell me, it's much more interesting to figure it out myself."

He moved closer still, and John tugged Clara's coat tighter around him. He lifted his chin up defiantly, refusing to back down. The stranger didn't know him, and if he needed to, John was sure he could knock him out and escape. He was at least a mile from his tent, the stranger couldn't possibly discover it through all of the miles of surrounding wilderness.

The man smiled at him. "You don't think I can figure it out, do you? Or you don't care." His eyes narrowed and John shivered a little at the intense stare. He turned up the collar of the coat and steadily breathed in and out, but refused to speak and give himself away.

"You're alone, obviously, but who hikes alone? Someone hiding perhaps? But you're not planning to be here for long, a week tops, and you're not well." He stepped closer, only a few feet away from John, who let out a soft gasp and a warning, "Don't come any closer!"

The man froze, John could practically hear the gears in his head turning, before he breathed out, "You're an Omega, aren't you?"

"No!" John stumbled back, his eyes darting around, his breath coming out in quick pants. "I'm not an Omega!"

"Yes, you are. I've read about this, you're in heat right now. I can tell."

John shuddered, feeling a little lightheaded. He tried to put on an air of defiance, though he could feel the walls he'd built over the passed year crumbling around him. "You couldn't possibly know this, you're unpresented."

"It's mere observation." The man said dismissively.

A look of surprise came over the man's face. "You're not bonded, are you? You're much too old to still be unbonded though. Fascinating." The man was watching him with a predatory look, that screamed Alpha, despite his unpresented smell. John felt both indignant and frightened. First of all, he was _not_ old, for crissakes he was only twenty, and second, well... He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near an Alpha, which this man was starting to look more and more like. And he wasn't supposed to feel this flustered and...wanting. John could practically smell the ashy desire, starting with the way his feet curled in his shoes.

"You know that this is private property. Anything on this property belongs to me, to do with what I will." The man smirked and moved even closer. "I'd like to try a few experiments..."

A thrill of fear went through him and he stumbled back. John could feel minute trembles starting at his shoulders and working it's way to his heart, which fluttered wildly like a butterfly caught in his chest.

"What are you saying?" He spat it out, trying for disgust, almost startled when it came out as panic. "I don't know you, I don't want anything to do with you!" He continued to shift back. Wanting to gain distance, wanting to turn and run, yet his eyes remained locked on the man's eyes, a pale blue that he couldn't break away from. Eyes that widened perceptably as John found his arms pinwheeling, felt himself falling from whatever root or rock he must have stumbled over because of course that was his life. Things coming up and ruining his carefully laid plans for college, for a normal life, for fucking escaping when he was supposed to. He could feel the ground rushing up and the next thing he knew, he was being cradled a few inches from the ground, the man's face looking down at him worriedly.

"Don't move" he muttered darkly. "You're clumsy enough in this state." John was limp in his arms, couldn't help it. He stiffened as he felt one long finger trace his face. Something snapped within him, and he was flailing, struggling, screaming, clawing, sobbing all at once. The nightmares he'd sometimes had in the past year all rushed back, dark shadows looming over him while hands touched, pressed in places, places that he didn't want touched, he couldn't move, couldn't see, he had no control over how his body flinched, spasmed - John could hear himself gasping, a rasping noise as if he was listening from a distance, knew he was having a panic attack. Hands held him by the shoulders, shook him before he felt a sharp sting on his cheek, and then again, his head snapping to the side and finally he couldn't see the images anymore, could see the sky and a pale, stricken face looking down at him.

The man's face was deathly white. He was biting his bottom lip to the point that a bright spot of red stood out starkly on his pale lips. "I - I'm sorry...so sorry. I didn't realize - I don't know what came over me..." He sounded so young, so unsure of himself. Suddenly he was just a young man again, a boy really, not some phantom Alpha that was going to do terrible things to him.

John got ahold of himself as the coat brushed against his face; he struggled away, out of the man's hands, scooted until his back was pressed up against a nearby tree and he could lean back shakily as he got his bearings. He brushed himself off to stall, to take a moment to collect himself.

"This - this is nothing. You didn't do - much." John hesitated, looking down at his hands which he clasped tightly. "And I'm not your property." John looked up and glared at the boy - that's all he was, John reassured himself - who gave a small, lopsided grin in return.

"Again, I'm sorry. I don't always know how to act around people - so my brother tells me." His face twisted into a temperary grimace at the word brother, before his face smoothed out and looked apologetic again.

John felt himself begin to relax, taut muscles slowly loosening. The boy wasn't a threat. To prove that, he leaned in and sniffed at the boy's neck.

"It's faint, but you're starting to present. I'm sure my presence has only helped that along." John hesitated, but felt a sort of camaraderie with this man, remembering his own first time presenting. Was it hard for Alphas as well?

"You should really be at home for this, the first time is hard, though I don't know what it's like for Alphas."

"I can't go home." His voice was firm, deeper than before. "At least not until Mummy's forgiven me for blowing up the kitchen." He shifted uncomfortably whilst John stared, gaping for a moment before giving in to a dry chuckle.

John held out his hand. The man stared at it. "I'm John. I might as well introduce myself, though I won't meet you again." The man continued to stare, but didn't take his hand, merely looked up at him and said "Sherlock."


	5. Chapter 5

Then Sherlock was pacing, or at least stepping over rocks in a vain attempt to pace. John sat on the ground and watched, feeling almost like he was watching a long-limbed creature stalking back and forth.

"I'd hoped I still had another year at least before hormones came and addled my mind. I suppose it makes sense, Mycroft was a bipolar menace..." He frowned in thought before whirling to look at John. "Are you sure that I'm presenting?" John sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Look, come over here." He waved him over, and Sherlock looked at him suspiciously, before dropping down unceremoniously in a tangle of limbs next to him.

"Now don't move!" John hissed in warning as he reached out and placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, holding him down with enough pressure that it must have been almost painful.

"Ow! Yes, I won't move!"

John leaned in slowly while Sherlock continued to eye him warily. John continued to lean in until his neck was a mere inch away from Sherlock's nose. "What do I smell like?"

Sherlock grumbled. "Probably of sweat and dirt." He gave a quick sniff. John heard the swift intake of breath, and then a longer sniff. His nose just brushed John's neck. It tickled and John almost went to lean in closer, but then shoved him away quickly.

"Hey!" Sherlock landed sprawled, a foot away and covered in pine needles. John let out a nervous giggle at the sight. He look gangly and awkward with his long limbs. Sherlock sat up, a few pine needles in his hair, looking thoughtful. He scrunched his nose. "You smelled floral, jasmine perhaps with an undertone of...maybe ash?"

"Yes." John rolled his eyes. "I smell like a damn flower. Anyways, the fact that you can smell anything at all is proof that you're starting to present."

"I'd read that the senses, particularly smell, increased exponentially." He looked at John, eyes bright. "What do I smell like?"

John heaved a sigh, and then sniffed the air between them, unwilling to get any closer. "It's hard to tell just yet. Like the smell of a new book, mixed with cardamom."

"Really?" Sherlock lifted an arm and sniffed before wrinkling his nose. "All I smell is pine."

"You could smell me because my scent is so strong right now. Your senses are just starting to grow."

"Oh." Sherlock stared at him. "Can I smell you one more time? For a data comparison, of course." He added quickly.

John shifted uncomfortably where he sat. "It's probably best that you don't. I should be leaving anyways, it's not safe for me to be near an Alpha right now."

"I'm not an Alpha _yet_."

"So? I have no intention of getting bonded to anyone. Least of all someone who I barely know, who is just hitting puberty."

Sherlock frowned. "I am _not_ just hitting puberty." He sniffed. "That was last year. I don't intend on bonding with anyone either. It would be too boring. Who needs kids and an idiot tied to you for life?"

"You're a git, you know. An arrogant git."

Sherlock glanced at him dismissively. "Don't worry, everyone's an idiot as far as I'm concerned, I'm not referring specifically to you. Though you did smell fantastic." He added as a side note.

"Well, I'm leaving then." John stood up stiffly, his legs awkwardly aching and stinging like bees as he quickly tried to shake them out. His face tightened as a twinge of pain shot through him, he'd almost forgotten about his heat while talking to Sherlock. He turned away and started walking.

"Wait!"

John heard the shuffle of feet and then Sherlock was walking next to him. "Let me stay with you for now, I don't want head home yet." John glanced sideways at him, mildly uncomfortable, but not nearly as much as he had been before.

"I don't think that's a great idea, I mean, for all I know, your Alpha instincts will kick in and you'll pounce on me."

"Come now, John. Now that I know what to anticipate, I'll avoid these meaningless emotions."

"It's pheromones and hormones, Sherlock, which _can't_ be avoided."

Sherlock huffed as they continued to walk, and went silent for a moment. "Maybe if I stayed upwind it would be fine. At least until I figure out something more permanent." He muttered.

John rolled his eyes, but said nothing to that ridiculous comment. They were getting closer to where his tent was, and John wasn't sure how he was going to get rid of his tag-along. Or if he really wanted to. It was pleasant to have someone to talk to, someone he didn't have to hide his Omega status from.

"Look, John. Let me just stay nearby. I can't go home just yet, unless I want to be strung up by my ankles." John tried to speak. Sherlock interrupted with narrowed eyes. "You _don't_ know Mummy. And besides, from what I've read, Omegas do better during their heat when Alphas are nearby."

John huffed at that. "Somehow I wonder what your motivation is in all this, not to mention how you supposedly know this." Not to mention he highly doubted Alphas were _merely_ nearby. More like fucking close, in every sense of the word. And that was not happening. John wasn't into blokes, let alone a lanky teenager that was already taller than him, dammit.

"How can I not know this? Mummy is an Omega. And any motivations would be clearly scientific." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I plan on eventually finding a way to avoid all these unnecessary bodily functions. It's all chemical reactions anyway."

John watched Sherlock as he spoke. It seemed he was telling the truth, or at least Sherlock was opposed to finding any sort of mate. And he wasn't really an Alpha yet. John knew he shouldn't be convincing himself, but his mind was already made up.

"Alright...well, you can sleep near my tent for tonight. If nothing happens, then I'll acknowledge that maybe you can keep your hormones under control." And he had pepper spray, if needed, which he probably wouldn't even need considering the teen didn't seem to have much muscle at all. Not to mention the extra strength he'd gained in the last year as an Omega.

Sherlock grinned and John felt pleasantly warm. "Now Sherlock, what else do you know about Omegas?"

By the time they reached John's tent, John had discovered several new things that he hadn't known, even though he'd researched Omegas thoroughly in the past year. He'd known that Alphas could mate with anyone, regardless of whether they were an Omega. However, according to Sherlock, Omegas couldn't mate with anyone besides Alphas. Which John highly doubted; it sounded more like Alpha propaganda to keep Omegas in line. At least he hoped so. He'd had the idea of eventually settling down with a wife and children, although not until he was in his 30's at least. It sounded like a pleasant enough future.

Maybe the problem was that he hadn't read much about Alphas, preferring to let the knowledge rest in obscurity considering he wasn't ever planning on being in close contact with an Alpha. Yep, that could _definitely_ be read as a euphemism. It turned out that Alphas weren't quite the bogeymans John had thought them to be. Although, who could blame him for thinking that, when Clara clearly hated her Alpha, and any other Alphas John stayed as far away from as possible. Sherlock claimed that his brother Mycroft had only gotten more annoying when he'd presented, but then again, Sherlock seemed pretty biased against his brother in general. And while Sherlock admitted that there was a biological basis for Alphas and Omegas, it wasn't as if they had to follow through on such instincts.

John simply nodded as Sherlock continued to talk, and then went into his tent before throwing his sleeping bag out at Sherlock. It hit him square in the face, making John wonder if Sherlock had any reflexes at all. It seemed unlikely.

"John!" Sherlock whined, giving a half-hearted but indignant "ow" before getting a good look at what had hit him. Then he frowned. "Why are you giving me your sleeping bag?"

"Just for now, I have a blanket in here. And even though it's summer - let's count the reasons - you'll catch a cold out here, it's nearly dark as it is, and the temperature will drop at night."

"Well..." Sherlock eyed the sleeping bag, lifting it up and examining it, then frowned again as if finding it wanting. He opened it up with a quick zip and then wriggled his way into it. Somehow, he looked like a lumpy green caterpillar, with tufts of hair peeking out at the end. He wriggled his head back out, and John bit back a giggle as Sherlock pouted.

"I'm not tired at all... but I suppose there are few other ways I could spend my time."

"Hmm, well, I hope waking me up isn't one of those other ways."

"Really now, you aren't planning on sleeping just yet, are you?"

John glanced up at the sky and gave a little frown. It was barely twilight, and he didn't feel in anyway tired. And the little jabs of pain that twisted inside him from time to time wouldn't make it any easier to fall asleep.

"Well..."

"I knew you'd see it my way, John. There should be some other way to spend the time."

John sighed. "Only for a little while longer - wait, I just remembered something!" He shuffled through his backpack haphazardly, before pulling out a deck of cards. "I'd brought it along to play solitaire, but we could play a few games with these." He felt a bit giddy at the thought. Sure, it was only card games, but at least it was better than being desperately bored on his own. Or bringing out the medical textbook that he'd promised himself to study at some point.

Sherlock's forehead creased. "I don't know how to play card games."

"I'll teach you; it's not hard."

John proceeded to quickly outline several games, which Sherlock seemed to get in turn. War was an even match, with Sherlock getting increasingly more and more annoyed. "It's all chance John!" Poker was a better option, with Sherlock deftly managing to bluff his way into a win despite a poor hand with only a low pair. By the time it got too dark to see, John was thoroughly enjoying himself, and managed to forget the real reason he was in the woods until he'd shuffled the deck and placed them back in his backpack.

"Well, I suppose it's too dark to do anything but sleep." He shifted awkwardly. "Good night Sherlock."

"Night John."

John closed the tent up with a loud zip as Sherlock snuggled into the sleeping bag. He blinked and rubbed his arms once. He felt light, the stress that he didn't even know he'd had falling away. He drew the blanket close over him, while still wearing the heavy coat, and tried to fall asleep.

That night was miserable, he'd just manage to doze off when he'd be jerked awake by another round of pain. He managed to catch at least two hours of sleep, which he was thankful for, in a weary, obliging way. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he opened his tent in the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

"I can't believe you had to follow me out here, I'm perfectly fine!"

Arguing intensely, about 10 feet away, was Sherlock with another man whose back was turned from the tent. The man sighed, but didn't turn. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, and was slightly pudgy, filled out in comparison to Sherlock's gangly stature.

"Sherlock, it's not my fault that you can't find a simple tracking device. If anything, this is a good lesson for the future."

John could see Sherlock gritting his teeth all the way from the tent. "I _did_ find a tracking device in the lining of my shoe. But how was I supposed to know that the cuff button was also a tracking device? It's much smaller than what's currently available on the market." Sherlock's eyes narrowed then. "You managed to make friends with the tech department, didn't you?"

John could almost taste the smug grin as the other man spoke. "Well, Jennifer is quite the good _friend_, as you put it. She was most willing to create one or two small devices in her free time for me."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Why you bother with people like that, I'll never understand. She'll be stuck to you until you can manage to get rid of her."

"She's useful in many ways, I can go into detail if you don't believe -"

"No!" Sherlock's mouth twisted with disgust, his eyes darted up and widened when he saw John at the tent. The older man turned and stared at John as well.

Well. John felt a little like one of those stupid deers, frozen, caught in the headlights. This wasn't good, was very not good at the moment. Not only that, he was only at half capacity with the lack of sleep. Just the thought brought on another spasm through his stomach, and he tensed for a moment until it passed, while trying not to let the pain show on his face.

"Uh. Hi." The man frowned at this and turned to Sherlock, so that his back was to John. A muscle in John's jaw twitched. So John was someone easily dismissed and ignored, was he? He opened his mouth to speak, but then quickly shut it at what followed.

"Only you could run away and somehow find an unlisted Omega in the middle of the woods." John folded his arms around his knees and felt the shock ripple through him. It couldn't be good that after a whole year, his secret had managed to be exposed to two people in the course of two days. How could the man tell so easily with just a glance? It was eerily similar to when he'd met Sherlock the other day.

"It's so interesting though, Mycroft. And you'd better not tell, or I will bring in your fat photos to your work." Sherlock gave a defiant glare, while John couldn't see whatever expression the man, Mycroft, had in response. After a short pause, Mycroft continued.

"Sherlock, he'll be discovered soon anyways. In fact, he already is discovered. He'll be well taken care of at the Omega facility."

John shifted and stepped fully out of the tent, wincing slightly as his legs wobbled. "Hey, I'm right here. No need to talk over my head. And I'm _not_ going to any facility."

Mycroft turned back at John's words and then took a step back. "Don't get any closer. Your pheromones are strong enough from where you are. You're a danger to anyone who comes upon you."

"_I'm_ a danger?" John sputtered. How _dare_ he say that when every moment of the past year he'd been worried about being discovered and taken away.

"Yes. I'm much too busy with work to even consider getting an Omega, but if you come much closer, there won't be much choice in the matter." His face was starting to get a light flush and Sherlock sneered.

"Mycroft, letting your instincts control you?"

John stumbled back as he realized what Mycroft's reaction meant, and then went around the tent, so that it was between them. He didn't feel any strange urge to jump the man, but he wasn't taking any chances.

"Look, this whole Omega Alpha thing is seriously weird, and I'd rather just avoid the whole issue if I could."

"But you can't. It would be preferable if you could go to a facility where you'd be properly educated." Mycroft slanted his eyes towards Sherlock. "And you need to come home. Mummy is worried sick, enough so that she had to notify me of your absence." John noted the word 'Mummy.' So this was Sherlock's brother. He should've realized it from the moment he heard Mycroft's name.

Sherlock sat down on a nearby rock amd stretched his arms langorously. He spoke in a bored tone. "You're supposed to be on break from your so-called job anyways; it's the holidays. Not that you come home at all, except to satisfy Mummy."

"I'm already being 'properly educated' and I'd rather you kept your nose out of my business." John broke in.

Mycroft eyed him contemplatively, his head at a slight tilt. "We could come to some arrangement, perhaps. So that your secret would not be discovered."

John felt anger building in his chest, tight and constricting. He stared at Mycroft, and wondered if this is what it felt like to be blackmailed.

Sherlock stood up and moved between Mycroft and John. "He doesn't have to come to 'some arrangement' with you, Mycroft." Sherlock shifted on his feet where he stood, and a bright flush stood out on his cheeks. He hesitated, and then scooted over to John and wrapped an arm around John's arm, like a limpet.

"Uh, Sherlock..."

Mycroft gave another sigh like he was handing them out for free and rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. John realized that he had rather deep circles under his eyes. "Sherlock, what are you doing? Letting _your_ instincts get the better of you?" He glared at John. "Do you see at all how you're a danger as you are right now? Why you let him stay near you...it's idiotic." His face briefly flushed and he took two further steps back.

John glanced over at Sherlock and frowned worryingly. He gave his arm a shake, but Sherlock didn't let go. "Sherlock!" He hissed before glancing back at Mycroft, who was a fair distance away at this point. "Is it really that bad? I don't feel anything at all. Besides the pain."

Mycroft paused in thought before he spoke. "I wouldn't know how an Omega feels. Only that I've never seen Mummy in pain. And Sherlock, do let go." He frowned as John tugged at his arm in vain.

"John, I'm perfectly fine. Only, it's rather nice where I am and I don't feel like moving." Sherlock turned and glared at Mycroft. "You can't have John." He squeezed closer and John felt a telltale bulge against his leg. John flushed and squirmed uncomfortably, which didn't seem to help the problem, as Sherlock only clung tighter.

Mycroft licked his lips and his eyes darted between John and Sherlock before he frowned harder. "Sherlock, I'm not taking John. But you need to come over here. You can see John after his heat is over. But not now, you're not in your right mind."

John felt a little reluctant, but he managed to detach Sherlock with a series of twists and shakes and one very well placed pinch.

"He's right, you're acting strange right now. Didn't you say something about Omegas being boring?" He gave Sherlock a shove towards Mycroft and stepped further back. Sherlock stumbled once and turned towards John before Mycroft caught him at the collar like some recalcitrant puppy; before Sherlock shook his head once and his eyes narrowed. And he took a step back, bumping into Mycroft behind him while his curls fell messily over his face.

"I need to go." He turned and fled, which was the only way John was going to describe it, the way he up and left, without another word. John felt oddly bereft and yet relieved at the same time. He wasn't quite sure how he should feel.

Mycroft turned back after watching Sherlock flee, with an odd twist to his mouth, which he quickly smoothed away.

"Now John, I think we should have a formal discussion. Perhaps we can come to a decision that will be of benefit to both of us..."

A sigh escaped as he flopped down face first on his bed, a sigh that turned into a soft moan. John had never been so happy to be in his bed, dorm room and all, as he was now. He felt blissed out just from the lack of pain, so much so that it was a pleasure to just lie there with a complete absence of any sensation at all. His mind floated and he rubbed his face against his sheets, enjoying the rough-soft feel on his cheeks and the light dusting of stubble that had grown more than he was used to in the past week. Then he buried his head under his pillow.

That lasted all of an hour before John came to his senses and checked the time. And the date. He was glad it was the hols, but he'd promised Harry that he'd get a job this summer. She was paying for most of his expenses, even though he'd offered to get a job during school. She'd glared at him in response. "John, focus on your studies. That's your job for now." He'd rolled his eyes and agreed, and been secretly grateful since his load this year had been overwhelming to say the least. How Mike managed to pull top scores while chasing after the girls at the local pubs, he didn't know. Not that John hadn't managed to pull decent grades, just that it had consumed all of his time and then some.

He sniffed the air once. God he smelled disgusting. Then again, being in the woods for a week could do that. He started stripping, tossing everything to the ground. His hand fingered the card in his pocket, fingerpads brushing against the expensive card stock before he took it out and tossed it in the direction of his desk. Bloody Mycroft. He slipped out of his trousers and pants and walked to the shower.

He scrubbed _very_ thoroughly, and noted that the feathers had come back on his chest as well as along his shoulders. He peered closer in the mirror, noting that he'd probably have to pluck the ones that would show even with a t-shirt on. And then he saw it. Or them.

"Shit. Shit! Bloody hell..." He turned away from the mirror, a steady stream of curses that got more inventive the longer it went on. He turned back and looked again.

"Fucking bloody devil better shoot me before I find him myself." He tried to imagine they weren't there, impossible when he was looking right at them. His eyes were gold. Golden. Like Clara's. But that gave him small comfort. These were bloody noticeable. What was he supposed to do, wear shades his whole life? It was startling since his eyes had been blue before. Though even if they'd been brown, his eyes were too light to pass off as that now. Contacts? Maybe. He needed to call Clara, see if there was anything she knew that would help. He reached for his phone.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, follows, etc.! It's so much fun to read them :) I apologize in advance for the long note.**

**I'm not sure what's considered best to do regarding questions in reviews. I figure if it's something relevant, I should answer it here. I haven't really tried private messaging, but if someone wants a quick answer, they could try that. I'm a bit slow with posting new chapters, but I have a lot of free time on my hands right now, so...**

**GabbyKat13: Thank you for the review and to answer your questions...well, there are other fics about omegas, although I'm not sure how many would be similar to mine. I can recommend some if you'd like. Background on the story: I really wanted to try my hand at an Omega story. I wanted a plot, which the majority of omega stories don't have. And I thought, I really like the stories where John tries to hide what he is, and I really like stories where they're younger. And what if John really couldn't hide himself, if there were physical attributes that eventually couldn't be hidden, or at great cost? And why does Harry drink? How can Clara be more involved? I admit I have a general idea of where I want the story to go, but it hasn't all been sorted out in my head yet.**

* * *

Clara was not picking up. Harry wasn't answering, but that was to be expected since it was the weekend and she was usually out bingeing about now.

"Fuck." John bit his lip and thought it over. Tried to be sensible, like everyone expected him to be. Dependable. But really he felt like throwing and breaking things on the floor, starting with the two plates he owned and ending with the silverware, which wouldn't really break, but he'd throw it anyway. And then stamp on it. That'd do the trick.

Or he could put on some sunglasses - convincing all passersby that he was hungover, since this was foggy London - and try to find contacts at the chemist. Yes. Just the way he wanted to spend his afternoon. He pulled a t-shirt on over his head, pulled on his pants and trousers, running one hand through his hair before heading out the door.

By the time he'd returned - after visiting several chemists - he felt drained, completely wonked, and he slumped down on the ratty sofa in a complete daze. He'd forgotten that he still wasn't completely recovered from the past week. And coffee wouldn't help, he was that far gone. Unless it was some ridiculous triple shot espresso that would get him jittery for about an hour before he fell back into the same state again. So he clambered over to his bed and promptly fell asleep.

And woke up to someone banging on his front door.

"Mmm?" John rubbed his eyes, grumbled some more, and looked at his alarm clock. 10:17. He looked blearily around. Meanwhile, the knocking continued.

He considered ignoring it. Surely it would stop soon, and then he could go back to sleep. His stomach grumbled. Or maybe get something to eat. He thought there might still be some cereal left in the cupboard, though he wasn't sure about the milk.

But the knocking was giving him a headache, so he opened it with a bang.

"What is it?!"

"Geez, you look terrible. I forgot my key, alright?" Mike gave him a frown before heading into the kitchen.

"Sorry Mike, I just haven't gotten much sleep lately." John tried to clear his throat, since every word was coming out hoarse and scratchy.

"S'okay. I told you that camping trip wasn't a good idea. Nature and all that...gives me the creeps."

John snorted. "You're such a pansy. A spider freaks you out, yet you're fine with the cadavers."

"It's the fact that everything is sterilized. And there's gloves."

"If only all the girls knew how you really were."

Now Mike snorted. "It's all about how you spin it. I'd come across as a sensitive scientist, I'll have you know." He sniffed the milk, frowned for a moment, and then chugged it anyway.

"Hey! Leave some for my cereal!" John grabbed the carton away, already feeling how much lighter it was. "I'm going to have to buy milk - again."

Mike laughed, and then squinted at him thoughtfully. "You look different. Get a tan while you were camping or something?" He leaned closer, and John glared at him. "Your eyes -"

"Shit!" John realized it in a moment and dashed for the bathroom.

"John, are you alright?"

Shitshitshit. John scrambled for the contacts before he realized it just wasn't going to happen, his fingers were trembling too much. He leaned over the sink and took a few deep breaths. A light tap sounded at the door.

"John, can I come in?"

"Give me a minute, Mike." He fumbled with the contacts, realizing this might take ages since he'd never used contacts before. They fell to the ground and John cursed under his breath as he crouched down.

"John, seriously, let me help you."

A hand gripped his shoulder, and he jerked away, still remaining huddled on the ground. He didn't want to turn around, to look him in the face. The hand held onto his shoulder again, and John shuddered, but remained still.

"It's alright, John. I already knew."

"Knew what?" John hunched over, his forehead resting against the sink cabinet, waiting to hear what Mike had to say.

"Don't play dumb; I knew you were an Omega last year."

John remained silent, although the tensing of his shoulders had probably already betrayed him.

"Look, it's admirable that you've managed to get by without anyone knowing -" John scowled, knowing that Mike couldn't see his face. "- but you don't have to worry about me telling anyone. Seriously! We're mates, right?"

John picked up the contacts, stood up and turned to face him.

"Whoa, man!" Mike leaned in and looked closely at John's eyes. "That's wild! It's too bad you can't leave them like that, chicks would dig them."

John sighed. "You wear contacts sometimes. Help me put them in."

"Okay, let me see them."

It took them the next 20 minutes to put the contacts in, and John kept blinking and feeling pretty uncomfortable about the whole thing. Mike had reassured him that he wouldn't be able to feel them after a while, but that didn't reassure him much.

On the other hand, when he looked at his phone later that day, he had two text messages.

_10:00 tomorrow. Cafe across from your flat. -MH_

_The lab at your school is tolerable. -SH_

* * *

John considered not showing up the next morning. In fact, he considered several things. Namely, how had either of them gotten his number? Not to mention, it was somewhat creepy that they knew both where he lived and where he went to school. John was a pretty common name, not like Sherlock or Mycroft. And dammit, now that he was thinking about it, he could have looked up either of them and had some sort of information about them. Sure, he didn't know their last names, but what kind of bloke has a name like Sherlock?

Those were his thoughts as the bell rang on the cafe door as he stepped inside. He could see Mycroft sitting in the back corner, and no one else sat nearby. There was a couple at the front table, but overall the cafe was less busy than he'd usually seen it. He walked towards the back, wondering how he could dissuade Mycroft from the offer he'd told John that past week.

"John."

"Mycroft."

John watched carefully as Mycroft took a sip of his tea before delicately setting it down. Mycroft frowned at him. "Please sit."

"You know I haven't agreed to anything yet."

"Yet. But we both know you will. Sit."

John sat, and leaned forward, face earnest. "I don't want anyone else to know what I am, I admit that. But there's no fucking way I can do what you're asking."

Mycroft tilted his head slightly to the side and smiled. It didn't look pleasant. "You will have to call in a favor before long. Maybe not now, but eventually, people will realize what you are."

"I've done fine this past year."

"I know you must be getting...help from someone. Someone who can't be trusted."

"How would you know!" John spat back. How could he say something like that? Especially about Clara! He stood up to go and Mycroft grabbed his wrist.

"Even you should realize that you only have a few more years at best. If you've read anything at all."

"I don't care! I only have one more year left of school; I'm not planning on abandoning that!" He heard whispering and flushed. He'd forgotten that he was in a public place. Here he was saying that he could go on being unnoticed, and he was shouting at a local cafe. He pressed his lips firmly together and sat back down, refusing to look around. He lowered his voice. "Look. I think I can manage quite fine on my own."

Mycroft sighed and took another sip of his tea while looking at him contemplatively. John shifted in his seat.

"If that is how you truly feel...well, it's all really your choice."

His eyes narrowed as he took in Mycroft's words. Was it really that easy? He startled as a waiter set a steaming mug of coffee in front of him.

"Please. Take it. At least sit and have some for your troubles." John considered it, and then shrugged and took a sip. It _was_ free coffee. And he was a student who had very little money to spend until he got a job.

"Thanks."

Mycroft nodded and took another sip of his tea. They sat in if not companionable silence, at least silence, which was better than anything Mycroft had to say. Unfortunately, that only lasted a few moments.

"Hmm."

John looked up.

"Mummy will be so displeased."

John frowned, but said nothing. And took another gulp of coffee. He should just finish it off quickly and leave. His throat burned.

"I'd mentioned that Sherlock had made a friend."

John took another gulp.

"She'd thought it lovely that Sherlock had finally made a friend. Too bad."

John couldn't help it. "Sherlock has nothing to do with this."

Mycroft's eyes slid over him, expressionless. And then he leaned in to whisper. "But you do. And you know nothing about the way this world operates. The way that Alphas and Omegas interact. What can Betas know? What can books know?" He leaned back, his eyes still expressionless, but his voice now filling with smug satisfaction. "Clara knows. But she hasn't told you much, has she?"

John froze, shocked.

"How do you know about Clara?"

"Does it matter?" Mycroft rolled his eyes. "If you'd just go along with the original idea, I wouldn't need to do this."

"Tell me."

"No. Maybe you should ask her yourself. Although, I doubt she'll say anything." Mycroft chuckled and leaned back again. "You had a bit of a crush on her, didn't you?"

"No! - I mean, I didn't think of her that way."

"John, if you want to escape notice in this world, you need my help. You won't last past your next heat. How do you think Sherlock found you? You don't really believe it was just coincidence, do you?"

John bit his lip, troubled. Mycroft was right that he didn't know much about Alphas and Omegas. He'd lived with Betas his whole life. He knew that he could trust Clara though, no matter what Mycroft was implying. Without Clara, he'd have been discovered that first day, no questions. But. He'd known that first day he'd met Clara that there were problems in her life.

Was there a way to work Mycroft's offer to his advantage?

"If I were to agree to this...deal, I would need insurance against anything going wrong."

"Of course."

"No one bonds with me. Not you. Not anyone."

Mycroft sighed. "No matter how appealing Omegas may seem, I am in no way interested in them, you can rest assured. And if you knew more, you'd realize that it's not as simple to bond as you think."

"You'll tell me how you know Clara."

"Maybe. After you come to the first event. Saturday at 14:00. I'll text you the address." Mycroft stood up and headed for the door.

"And say hello to Sherlock for me."

John drank the dregs of his coffee and rubbed his forehead briefly. And then he stood up. He knew where Sherlock would probably be. And he had questions.


End file.
